Instant Karma
by RobzBeanie
Summary: One of the happiest days of Bella's life turns into the worst day. AH. Contains character death and suicidal thoughts. Please proceed with caution. NOTE: This is Bella's back story for "Reason For Living." Read it now if you don't care about spoilers. :)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Thanks to moosals for pre-reading! Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.

This was my second entry in the recent angst contest. I think 80% of the readers didn't read it since it's not Bella/Edward. Back in October, I got a plot bunny for a new multi-chapter B/E fic. As I was outlining Bella's back story, I realized it was pretty angsty and decided to enter in the contest.

When the new story posts, Bella's back story will be revealed slowly, as Edward learns it. Reading this one-shot will be a **SPOILER** to you if you plan to read the new story. If that doesn't bother you, then go ahead and read. :)

Please proceed with caution, as there will be character death and suicidal thoughts.

* * *

**~o~**

**karma: **The idea that one reaps what one sows; destiny; fate. _(from wiktionary)_

**~o~**

"Remember my appointment is at 3:30," I remind my husband as he stands in front of the mirror tying his necktie.

"Sure, sure, it's on my calendar."

"Don't be late; I don't want you to miss anything."

"I won't be late, Bella," he replies, rolling his eyes as he kisses me quickly. "See you this afternoon."

I sigh as I hear the sound of the front door closing. Today is unbelievably important to the future of my relationship with Jake. I need him to see our baby on the monitor. Need him to love it as much as I do. Need him to want to stay with me.

It was about six months ago that I stopped by Jake's office at the Volturi Bros. law firm and caught his legal assistant, Leah, draped all over him. I knew she had a thing for my husband, but until I saw her there, black pencil skirt and too much cleavage showing in her nearly see-through blouse, I hadn't realized she wasn't just sitting back passively.

I confronted Jake that night and he swore that nothing was going on with Leah. He admitted that she sometimes flirted with him, but insisted that she was like that with everyone. Yeah, I wasn't stupid enough to believe that.

Since our sex life hadn't changed for the worse, or for the better, I believed that Jake and Leah weren't having an affair — yet. But I needed to do something fast before Leah was able to turn his head.

Jake and I were the perfect yuppie couple — high school sweethearts, together for 10 years and married for three, 3,000-square foot ranch home in the Seattle suburbs. I'd been working at a small veterinary hospital for the past year, along with my good friend Dr. Jasper Whitlock and one other veterinarian. My husband specialized in corporate law and was well on his way to making partner at his firm.

Jake had always said that he wanted to postpone having children until he made partner. He may have been on the fast track, but we were still looking at a minimum of five years until that happened. The more I thought about it, the more I came to the conclusion that having a baby _now_ would be the answer to my prayers.

When Jake was 12, his mother had cheated on his father, eventually leaving to marry the other man. He had hated his mother ever since, and swore that he would die before he'd ever do something like that to his own wife and child. And that's why, instead of talking it over with my husband, I stopped taking my birth control pills on my own. Maybe some — ok, _most_ — would say it was dishonest, but as the saying goes, "desperate times call for desperate measures."

I was thrilled when I found out I was pregnant just a few months later. Jake was shocked, but I performed the best acting job of my life convincing him that I had no idea how I could have gotten pregnant, and that I must have just been one of the "less than 1%" who became pregnant even on the Pill.

When it came time for my first ultrasound at 12 weeks, Jake had been tied up in court and unable to make it. Not wanting a repeat of that, I gave him plenty of warning before my 20-week appointment, reminding him weekly to double check his calendar to make sure the date and time were still open.

**~o~**

"Goodbye, Mr. Banner," I call to the kindly 60-something man as he walks out of the office with his German shepherd.

I check the time on my phone — still two hours until my appointment. Maybe I should text Jake again, just to be sure.

"I think that's about the tenth time I've seen you check your phone today," Jasper chuckles, startling me.

"Sorry… my ultrasound is this afternoon. We're going to find out if we're having a boy or a girl."

"Oh, that's great. I'm excited for you."

"Thanks, Jasper," I say with a smile.

"Hey, how about Alice and I take you and Jake out for dinner tonight to celebrate?"

"Oh, you don't have to do that…"

"It's no trouble, believe me. You know Alice — she's probably going to have a ton of ideas for decorating the nursery once you find out the sex of the baby."

I laugh; yes, I do know Alice. My best friend is one of the hottest young interior designers in Seattle.

"That sounds great, Jasper. Let me just text Jake and see if he's up for it."

When Jake agrees to dinner, I let Jasper know and we make plans for later on tonight. There's a hot new restaurant that Alice is just dying to try, so we agree to meet there around 6pm.

**~o~**

"Isabella Black?" the nurse calls.

I quickly stand up, motioning for Jake to put away his iPhone and join me as we make our way back to the examining room.

"Please put this gown on, and a tech will be with you shortly."

Once I'm ready, the technician knocks and then peeks her head into the room. "Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Black," she calls pleasantly.

"So are we going to be finding out the sex today?" she asks as she applies a cold gel to my growing stomach.

"Yes, we are," I reply. I have always hated surprises.

Clutching tightly to my husband's hand, I look up at the screen in wonder as the tech moves the wand from side to side. The images on the monitor look a bit more like a human baby than they did eight weeks ago.

"Everything looks good, very normal for 20 weeks."

"And can you tell the sex?" I ask anxiously.

"See that?" she asks, pointing to something on the screen. "That's a penis. You're having a boy."

"A boy…" Jake repeats, staring at the screen. Tears of joy roll down my face. It's the first time I've seen him so interested in my pregnancy. I shudder to think what his reaction would've been if we'd found out I was having a girl.

As the tech leaves the room, I sit up, smiling at Jake. "You're gonna be a dad. You're gonna have a son."

"Thank you, Bella," he says passionately, kissing me softly.

**~o~**

As we step up to the hostess stand at the restaurant, I see Alice waving her arm frantically.

"Over there," I say to Jake, taking hold of his hand.

Alice stands when we reach the table, hugging me tightly. "You look great! I can't believe how much your stomach has grown in just the two weeks since I last saw you."

"Yeah," I chuckle, "I pretty much can't wear any of my normal clothes anymore."

"So come on," she says as we sit down, "Don't keep me in suspense. Boy or girl?"

"It's a boy," Jake announces with a silly grin.

Alice squeals in delight. "Oh my God, Bella, I am going to have so much fun decorating your nursery. What kind of theme were you thinking of? Jungle animals are so cliché. Maybe cars, or trains, or _Star Wars_?"

"Alice, calm down," I laugh. "We only just found out it was a boy two hours ago. I have no idea what kind of theme we want for the nursery."

"You don't have much time, Bella! You're halfway through your pregnancy already."

"I promise Jake and I will talk about it this weekend and I'll get back to you, ok?"

Alice pouts but eventually agrees. She's almost as excited about this baby as I am.

"We should totally celebrate with a bottle of wine," Alice suggests when the waiter comes by. "You don't mind if the rest of us drink, do you, Bella?"

"Nah, it's fine. Maybe I can get some non-alcoholic champagne?"

Dinner is wonderful. The food is delicious, as is the turtle cheesecake I order for dessert. My waistline is already gone, so I may as well eat whatever I want. I am just so happy to see Jake's obvious excitement. In the back of my mind, I still feel guilty over getting pregnant intentionally, but everything seems to be working out even better than I had hoped.

A couple of hours and two bottles of wine later, we finally stand up from the table. I hug Alice goodbye and call out to Jasper, "See you on Monday."

Jake stumbles a bit as we walk to the front of the restaurant, his hand on the small of my back. I guess he pretty much consumed my usual share of the wine.

Outside the January air is brisk, the wind biting. Looking into the streetlights, I notice light sleet falling from the sky.

"Jake, why don't I drive?" I ask as we near the car. "You might be over the legal limit."

"I'm fine, Bella."

"Jake, please? The roads will be difficult enough to navigate sober."

"Fine," he relents, handing me the keys from his coat pocket.

Sitting in the driver's seat of our SUV, I adjust the seat and mirrors for my height — over a foot shorter than my 6'5" husband. I turn the heater on full blast, letting the defroster melt the light coating of ice on the windshield.

As I drive along the freeway, I keep a tight hold on the steering wheel. The roads are slick, but I'd much rather be in Jake's 4-wheel drive vehicle than my own rear-wheel drive car. Seeing the sign for our exit up ahead, I breathe a sigh of relief — almost home.

"Shit," I curse as I feel the tires slip on a patch of ice as I change lanes. The car slides to the left a bit, and I turn the steering wheel to straighten it back out, glad for the light traffic on the 5 tonight. Quickly realizing I overcorrected to the right, I turn the steering wheel back to the left, feeling the car start to spin out of control.

"Bella, turn it that way," Jake directs, reaching out to grab at the wheel. But it's too late, and I feel us begin to spin around, sliding down the interstate while facing the right hand edge of the road.

I'm trying desperately to regain control of the car when I hear Jake scream just before I hear the sound of metal and glass clashing. I'm just able to tell that another vehicle has hit the passenger side of the car before everything goes black.

**~o~**

Pain.

All I know is pain, blocking out all of my other senses. As I struggle to understand what is happening, a slow beep… beep… beep comes through the fog. Good God, why won't it be quiet?

I try to reach out my right hand toward the noise, but find I can hardly move it.

"Charlie, did you see that? Her fingers moved," a woman's excited voice breaks through my senses.

"I didn't see anything," a deeper voice replies.

"Bella? Baby, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes, Bella?"

My mother? Was that my mother's voice? Renee lives in Jacksonville — what would she be doing in Seattle?

"Bella, sweetie, open your eyes. Just try, honey."

My eyes are closed? Is that why it's dark?

I concentrate on my eyelids, telling the muscles to let them open.

Light… blinding, bright light. I slam my eyes closed again.

"Charlie, turn the light out, I think it's too bright for her."

"Try again, Bella," she continues after a pause.

Slowly, I open my eyes again, trying to focus on my mother and father standing over me. What are they doing here? And where is _here_ anyway?

"Wha—" my throat is too dry to let me finish.

"Do you want some water, honey? Charlie, go get her some water," she directs, handing him a small cup from somewhere beside me. I watch my dad until he disappears from my sight.

"Stay with me, Bella. Your dad will be back in a minute."

Moments later, my dad reappears in my vision. "Drink this," he says gently, holding a straw to my lips. I take a long sip, enjoying the cool wetness against my dry throat.

"Wh—what happened?" I manage to croak.

"You were in an accident, Bells," my dad replies. "You're in the hospital. But you're gonna be fine."

"It hurts," I whimper.

"I imagine it does. You have a broken leg, four broken ribs and — and internal injuries. But you're going to be _fine_," he repeats.

I try to process what my dad just said. Broken bones and internal injuries. The last two words incite fear deep inside me, but I'm not sure why. I'm forgetting something…

My chest hurts but I feel strangely… empty. I can't explain the feeling. Slowly, I move my left hand down toward my stomach. I don't know why, but I need to touch it.

My stomach is… flat. And somehow that's wrong. There must be—

"My baby! Where is my baby?"

"Bella, calm down, baby girl," my mother soothes.

"Where is my baby?! Tell me where he is!"

"Bella, sweetheart… your baby is gone."

Gone? But… I wasn't ready to give birth yet… was I? He must be so tiny, so helpless.

"Let me see him. Take me to him!"

My mother and father exchange looks. I don't understand what is going on. Why aren't they speaking?

"Bells," my father begins gently, "Your baby didn't make it. Your baby is dead."

"No!" I scream. There must be some mistake. That can't be right. My baby — my son — can't be… dead.

Someone took him. That must be it. I have to go find him. Willing my body to move, I sit up, ignoring the crushing pain in my chest. I have to go find my baby.

I try to get off the bed, but my right hand is… tied to something. I can't move.

"Bella, stop! You'll pull the IV out," my mother cries. "Charlie — get a doctor!"

"Let me go! I need to find him!"

"Baby, calm down, you're going to hurt yourself."

Suddenly my father is back, holding on to my arms, trying to force me to lie down. I twist and push at him with my one free arm. Why are they trying to stop me?

"There, now," an unfamiliar voice says, "The drug should take effect very soon."

Drug? What drug? Someone drugged me?

Blackness.

**~o~**

I blink my eyes open to a white room, bright sunlight filling it.

"Bella!" my mother's voice calls.

"Mom?"

"Here — drink some water," she says quietly, holding a straw to my lips.

"Where—where am I?" I ask after I take a long sip.

"You're in the hospital, baby. You were in an accident."

The hos— "It wasn't a nightmare?"

"No, baby, I'm afraid not."

"My baby is dead."

She nods slowly. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

I close my eyes — I can't stand to see the look of pity on her face.

"Does Jacob know?" I ask quietly.

When she doesn't respond, I open my eyes again, looking up at my mom. Her face looks… sad.

"Oh," I remember, "Jake was in the accident, too." I turn my head toward the other bed in my room, but he's not there. "Why didn't they put Jake in the bed next to me?"

"Baby," Mom starts, tears rolling down her face, "Baby, Jake is dead."

"Dead?"

"Yes, baby. Do you remember the accident at all?"

Squeezing my eyes closed, I try to remember anything before this bed. "There was ice on the interstate. I lost control of the car."

"That's right," she nods. "Your car spun around and was hit by a pick-up. The impact was on the passenger side. Baby, Jake didn't have a chance."

"My husband is dead…?"

"I'm so sorry, honey," my mom whispers, coming closer to the bed. Carefully, she wraps her arms around me as I sob. "I'm so sorry."

**~o~**

"Bella, are you awake?" I hear my best friend's voice and force my eyes to open.

"Oh Bella," Alice cries, throwing her arms around me. "I would've been here earlier, but your dad said you've been pretty out of it. I was here most of the day Saturday though, before you woke up."

"What day is it now?" I ask limply.

"Tuesday. Do you… do you know?"

"That I killed my husband and baby? Yeah, I know."

"Bella, of course you didn't kill them! It was an accident — a horrible accident."

"I was driving. I lost control."

"Bella, the roads were terrible that night. Jasper almost lost control twice on the way home. It wasn't your fault."

I shake my head. "I killed them. I guess… I guess it was karma."

"Karma? What are you talking about?"

"Where's Jasper?" I ask, changing the subject.

"He—he's outside. He wasn't sure if you wanted to see him."

"Why wouldn't I?" I ask, confused.

"He feels awful, Bella."

"I don't understand. Why should Jasper feel bad?"

"Because going out Friday night was his idea. He blames himself, which is just as stupid as _you_ blaming yourself."

"Tell him… tell him it's not his fault," I whisper. "It's all mine."

"Bella, it's _not_. It's not your fault. It was an accident, do you hear me?"

"I'm tired. I want to go back to sleep now," I reply, dismissing her.

**~o~**

"How about this one?" my mother asks, pulling yet another dress out of my closet.

"It's too short," I reply, shaking my head. I'm stuck in this goddamn wheelchair until my broken ribs heal enough that I can lean on crutches without gasping in pain. I can't wear something so short that it'll ride up and give everyone a free peep show.

"This one?" she asks, holding up a navy blue wrap dress. If I remember correctly, it comes just past knee-length, thanks to my short legs. And the dark color is appropriate for a funeral.

"That one should work."

When the doctors released me from the hospital this morning, my mother had to trade her compact rental car in for an SUV so that she could fit my wheelchair inside. With her help, I get into the passenger seat of the vehicle.

Driving down the interstate to the funeral home, I have to take deep breaths to keep from having a panic attack. The weather is so much like it was that day, only one week ago.

"Mrs. Black," the reverend from our church smiles warmly at me, shaking my hand as my mother wheels me into the sitting room. "Let me move a chair up front out of the way for you."

I look up at the casket holding my husband. It's… nice, dark cherry wood. Jake's father, Billy, made all of the funeral arrangements this week while I was hospitalized. The casket is closed, I note. I first saw my own bruised face in the mirror this morning. I can only imagine what Jake must look like.

I barely hear anything the reverend says during the service. I feel like I'm having an out of body experience or something. My body is in the room, but my mind is far, far away.

I ask Renee to wheel me up to the casket before they come to take Jake's body to the cemetery.

"I'm so sorry, Jake," I whisper, leaning my forehead on the casket. "I'm so sorry."

"You should be," a voice full of spite calls from behind me. I whip my head around and face the angry dark eyes of Billy Black. "It's your fault my son and grandchild are dead."

"Hey, now," my dad tries to calm his good friend. "You saw the police report — it was one of dozens of accidents that night. It's no one's fault. Bella lost as much as you did that night."

"Why were you driving anyway?" Billy continues. "Jake always said you didn't feel comfortable driving his SUV."

"Because Jake had too much wine at dinner," I yell, my anger at my husband coming out for the first time. Billy is right — I didn't like driving the SUV, and it was Jake's fault that I had to.

"Come on, sweetie," my mom says gently, pushing me down the aisle to the doorway, ignoring everyone who's trying to offer me condolences. My anger deflates as quickly as it sprang up. Deep down inside, I know Billy is right: it's all my fault.

**~o~**

Two weeks after my life went to hell, I wheel myself into the bathroom while my mother is out grocery shopping. She was able to get a leave of absence from work so that she could stay with me until I'm able to get around more easily.

I take the next dose of my pain pill and decide to put the container away in the medicine cabinet so I don't have to look at it every time I need to use the bathroom, as if I need another reminder of what happened. As I place it on the shelf, I notice the bottle next to it — my prenatal vitamins.

I hold the bottle of vitamins in my hand, staring at the label. I guess these are no use to me anymore. And they won't be for the near future. I can't bear to look at the reminder of all I lost. Angrily, I wheel over to the toilet and flush them, tossing the empty bottle into the wastebasket.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The cuts and bruises on my face are almost gone, but I can still see the yellow-green splotches if I look closely. I reach up to close the door to the medicine cabinet when my eyes fall on another bottle. I pick it up, reading the label — Jake's painkillers. Strong shit.

Jake was a star offensive lineman on the Forks high school football team, until he injured his knee our senior year. He had surgery to repair a torn ligament but his knee was never really the same. I know it pissed him off that he couldn't even play a casual game of basketball with his buddies. He wasn't in constant pain, but cold weather especially caused the pain to flare up and he'd need to take one of these occasionally.

Opening the bottle, I examine the contents. He must've filled the prescription recently, as it's nearly full — nine pills left. Because of the highly potent, addictive quality of the pills, he wasn't allowed to get more than 10 at a time.

Nine pills. That's enough to kill someone. It's enough to kill me.

I killed my husband and my baby. I really don't deserve to live. Billy Black surely wishes that I had died instead of Jake.

What do I have to live for? My husband is gone. My baby is gone. I'm facing a lifetime of guilt and pain, shame for what I did. Suicide is such a coward's way out, but maybe I am a coward.

"Bella, sweetie, where are you?" my mother's voice calls from somewhere in the house. I don't answer her, just continue staring at the bottle. Could I really go through with it?

"There you are!"

I look up at her and her brow furrows. I imagine that she can read my mind and knows what I was thinking.

"What are those?" she asks, nodding at the bottle. When I don't answer, she grabs the bottle from my hand. "These are Jake's. What were you doing with them?"

I watch her face pale as she gets it.

"Isabella Marie Swan Black, do not tell me you were thinking of taking these!"

"All right — I won't tell you."

My mother just stares at me. "Suicide?" she whispers.

I shrug.

"That's it — I am making you an appointment with a therapist, a grief counselor. And I'm getting rid of these," she adds, tossing them into the toilet.

**~o~**

Just over two weeks later, I am watching mindless daytime television when the doorbell rings. My mother had to leave two days ago, go back to Jacksonville or face losing her teaching job. Alice is my new babysitter, but she's still at work. Carefully, I maneuver myself into my wheelchair as the doorbell chimes again.

I open the door to Jason Jenks, my husband's lawyer.

"Mrs. Black," the short, balding man says gently, "It's good to see you up and around."

I glance down at my wheelchair and then back up at him. I wouldn't say I'm "up and around."

"May I come in?" he asks when I don't reply. "I've got some things I need to discuss with you."

"Fine," I nod, trying to get myself out of the way of the door.

"Perhaps we can talk at the dining room table?" he suggests as he closes the front door. Sitting down at the table, he continues, "First, let me apologize for the delay in getting this to you."

I take the piece of paper he offers me and read through the fine print, trying to understand what it is.

"Your insurance company ruled the SUV a total loss," he explains. "That's their estimate of the car's value."

For the first time, I notice the check below the perforation — $20,000.

"If you don't think it's enough—"

"It's fine," I interrupt. It's not like I need to replace the vehicle.

"And this," he continues, holding up what looks like another check, "I just received yesterday — Jake's life insurance death benefit. Your mother helped me get a copy of the death certificate while you were still in the hospital, but the insurance company took a few weeks to investigate before paying up."

"Investigate?"

"Yes, well," he stutters, "As you are the beneficiary and you were driving the car…"

Suddenly there is a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. "You're saying the insurance company had to make sure I didn't deliberately crash the car and kill my husband for his _life insurance_?"

Mr. Jenks clears his throat. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but yes, that's what I'm saying. After their investigation, they ruled the cause of death accidental."

I take the check from him and nearly pass out when I see the amount — $2,750,000. "Oh my God, where did this come from? Jake just had a policy from work equal to one and a half times his salary. I — I wasn't expecting anything like this."

"I don't know anything about a work policy. You'll have to call his firm about that. Your husband purchased an individual life policy for two and a half million dollars," he explains. "The extra two hundred fifty thousand is from the accidental death rider."

"But — but when did he do this?"

Mr. Jenks scans the paperwork in his hand. "It looks like he took out the policy a little over three months ago. Does that date mean anything to you?"

Three months ago… Jake must've bought this policy after we found out I was pregnant. He never appeared to care all that much about the baby, but obviously he had cared enough to buy a $2,500,000 life insurance policy to make sure we were protected in the event of his death.

"Get out."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, get out!" I scream. "I need to be alone right now."

"Yes, of course, Ma'am. I'll just leave the rest of these papers with you," he replies quickly before scurrying out of the house.

Angrily, I swipe my hands across the table, causing the papers to fly to the floor. Tears streaming down my face, I reach down and pick up the check for the life insurance. I don't need this. I don't want it. It's — it's _blood money_. I grab hold of opposite corners, ready to rip it to shreds, but then something stops me.

Maybe I can use the money after all.

**~o~**

Four weeks later, my body is repaired, yet my mind is still a mess. I've tried to go out on my own, but I start hyperventilating every single time I try to get behind the wheel of a car. Alice isn't staying with me anymore, but either she or Jasper stops by every evening to see if I need anything.

I can't live like this, letting my friends do everything for me because I'm too chicken shit to drive a fucking car. I can't stay here, in our perfect house in the suburbs, where I'd need a car to get most any place.

I can't even think about going back to my job; my head just isn't in the right place for that. But I don't have to work — I've received nearly three million dollars in insurance money. That should enable me to live for as long as I need to get myself together.

I've already sold my Cadillac CTS, and I'm selling the house. After a quick phone call to my dad, I put the house on the market the day after Jason Jenks stopped by. I accepted an offer last week and have been packing up ever since. Most of what's in here I plan to give away. I won't need it where I'm going.

As I clear out the master bedroom, I stare at Jake's shirts and suits hanging in the closet. I don't need them anymore, but the thought of getting rid of them. I just… can't. I find a garment bag for the suits, and pack the shirts along with the rest of Jake's clothes in his suitcases.

Alice has a fit when she arrives in the evening and finds all of the boxes, now scattered around the living room. "What the hell are you doing, Bella?" she screams at me.

"Moving," I reply nonchalantly.

"Moving _where_?"

"Away."

"Are you going back to Forks, to your dad?" she asks.

"Nope."

"To live with your mom in Jacksonville?"

"No, I don't think I could take the humidity in Florida."

"Why won't you tell me?" she asks in a hurt voice.

"Because I want to be alone, Alice. I'll have my cell phone and iPad, so you can stay in touch with me, but I just don't want to see anybody."

"Bella, come on, you could go back to that therapist your mother found—"

"I'm done with therapy. They don't understand. No one understands."

"Then _make_ me understand. Is this about what you said in the hospital — karma? You never did explain what that meant," she adds.

Sighing, I sit on the couch, scrubbing my hands over my face.

"I deserved to lose my husband and child," I reply quietly.

"Bella, that's ridiculous! No one deserves what happened to you."

"I did. I was dishonest and it came back to bite me in the ass."

"Dishonest about what?"

"I got pregnant on purpose," I whisper. "To make sure that Jake didn't leave me."

"Oh Bella," Alice says, putting her arms around me. "That doesn't mean you deserved to lose them both."

**~o~**

My father grew up in Hoquiam, Washington, moving to Forks when he joined their police force. His parents owned a small bungalow on nearby Lake Aberdeen and it passed to Charlie after their deaths. I begged my father for the key to the bungalow, making him swear not to tell anyone that's where I was going.

I had to call around to a few places, but eventually I found a moving company that was willing to let me ride in the truck for the two-hour drive from Seattle to Lake Aberdeen. I feel horrible for the way I lied to Alice and Jasper, telling them that I wasn't moving until Saturday, when actually the moving truck picked me up on Thursday morning.

"Are you sure you're going to be all right out here?" one of the movers asks after they bring in the last of the boxes.

"I'll be fine," I reply with a forced smile. "There's a truck out back, so I can get to town." I remember the 1950s-era rusted beast of a Chevy from the few times we came here when I was a child. I have no idea if the thing still runs. Of course, even if it does, I won't be driving it. It's only about a three-mile walk to the Walmart on the edge of town. At least I'll stay in shape.

Once the movers leave, I look around my new home. I run my finger over the small kitchen table and it practically turns black. It looks like the first thing I'll be doing is dusting. Thank God the upholstery has been under dust covers since my dad's last visit.

I find the cabinet with cleaning supplies first, and by twilight, I've got the place sparkling clean. I begin unpacking clothes next, hesitating only briefly before hanging Jake's things in the closet next to mine. I scoot the trunk with my most prized possessions to sit at the foot of the bed.

I'm exhausted when I finally sit down to eat the sandwich I packed in Seattle. I leave my phone off, knowing that Alice should be arriving at my empty house soon. I'm so not ready to deal with her yet.

**~o~**

"Bella Swan, is that you?" an elderly woman calls as I pay for my groceries the next day.

"Yes…?"

"Shelly Cope — I was one of your dad's high school teachers. I remember when he used to bring you down here for a week every summer. You look so much like him."

"Oh, right, I think I remember you now," I lie.

"What brings you to Aberdeen?"

"I, um, just needed to get away from my real life for a while. Nice to see you again, Mrs. Cope," I call as I walk out of the store.

I'm going to need one of those carts like people in New York City use, I think to myself as I walk down the Olympic Highway. I can't imagine carrying all of these bags for three miles. Maybe I should've bought less stuff, but there was no food at all in the house.

"Bella," a voice calls, startling me.

I look up and spot Mrs. Cope watching me, the window of her large 1980s Buick rolled down. "Don't you have a car?"

"Um, no."

"Well, let me give you a ride, child. Those bags must be heavy!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Cope," I answer graciously as I place my bags in the backseat and then get into the car.

"You're staying at the lake house, right?" she asks. I nod in response. "Where's your car? I think your granddad's old Chevy is still parked at the house, isn't it?"

"It is," I confirm. "But, um, I don't drive anymore. I was, um, in an accident."

"My heavens, are you all right?"

No, I am not all right. "I'm fine now. I got the cast off my leg a few weeks back. I'm just… not ready to get behind the wheel again."

"Well, let me give you my phone number when we get to the house and you just call me whenever you need a ride and don't feel like walking, ok?"

"Ok," I reply with a nod, grateful for her help.

Once Mrs. Cope leaves, I put the groceries away, then climb into the window seat, staring out at the lake and the trees. It's quiet here, peaceful. Unbidden, hot tears begin to fall as I think about the mess I made of my once-perfect life.

This is my life now. This is my penance.

* * *

**A/N: **I know you guys, you like to read the last chapter first, right? :)

One of the contest reviews thought this story seemed unfinished, because Bella never moves through the steps of mourning. Well, yeah. That's the point, that she's unable to move forward. She doesn't physically commit suicide, but she does stop living.

The new multi-chapter fic will be called "Reason for Living," and I've written 30,000 words of it so far, all since December 1. I will post when I'm finished pre-writing, which will be late January or early February at the earliest (thanks to a 9-day vacation in early January). Keep me on Author Alert if you want to know when it's posted.


	2. Story continued as Reason For Living

**Author's Note: **This story is now continued as "Reason For Living," story ID 8978002.

Here is a sneak peek:

* * *

_Thursday, September 13, 2012_

"How about I come down to the lake and take you out to dinner this weekend for your birthday?" my father's voice comes through the computer.

"Dad, I really don't feel like going out," I reply with an exasperated sigh.

"You never feel like doing _anything_, Bells."

"Don't start, Dad." I love my father. I do. But every week, it's the same argument.

"Look, Bells, you're 30 years old now. You are wasting your life living by yourself in the middle of nowhere. You don't see anyone, you don't do anything… I worry about you."

"I'm fine, Dad. And I do something — you know I'm writing for an online blog."

"I just wish you'd go back into society. If not Seattle, you can come back to Forks. Dr. Gerandy from the animal hospital is going to be retiring in a few months. Please, Bella, just promise me that you'll think about it," my dad implores.

"Fine," I sigh. "I'll think about it." For two seconds.

Suddenly, I hear a loud pounding at my front door. My head turns toward the noise, while Leo, my very furry orange tabby cat, jumps from my lap to go hide underneath the kitchen table. Wimp.

"Is that someone at the door?" Dad asks, hearing the noise easily via our Skype connection.

"Yeah. Probably just UPS or something. Mom said she was shipping my birthday gift. Let me sign off and get that. I'll talk to you next week, all right?"

"All right, goodbye, Isabella. And think about what I said."

Closing the connection, I roll my eyes at my dad's badgering. I'm just not ready to face the world again. I don't know if I ever will be.

The pounding starts again as I unlock all of the deadbolts that my dad, ever the vigilant cop, installed on the door after I moved in here. "Just a second," I call.

Once I finally get the door open, I'm shocked when a tall figure rushes into the house. The only thing I register is that he's wearing an orange jumpsuit — like you see prisoners wear in cop shows on TV.


End file.
